Captain Willian Jewell
by gusenitsa
Summary: The tale of Captain Willian Jewell, Seattle PD. I suspect I will be writing a lot of little snippets in this world because dang it, alternative versions of characters are canon now and Detective Rogers needs his brother, (even if he doesn't remember having a brother at the moment.)
1. Promotion

"I warned you about Weaver, _detective._ "

Captain William Jewell was already halfway through a beer and another glass sat waiting at the empty spot across from him when Killian arrived at Roni's. Killian sighed and sat across from his captain, taking a sip from the glass; Root Beer this time.

"Good evening, Captain," Killian said dryly. He had hoped this conversation could wait until after he'd some food in him but the man sitting across from him clearly had other plans.

"Not your captain outside of the precinct," Liam corrected.

"You're always my Captain," Killian retorted, his tone torn between exasperation and sentimentality.

"Is that so?" Liam chuckled, "Then why do you insist on ignoring me?"

"I'm not ignoring you, Cap-"

"Call me captain one more time, Rogers, and I'll have you on desk duty for a month." There was a smile tugging at Liam's lip but Killian still went quiet for a moment and Liam watched him carefully.

He had suspicions that their friendship did Killian no favors around the station, but there was something about the eager young officer which had called to Liam all those years ago. He'd taken the man under his wing, even dragging him from their previous posting here to Seattle when he got the promotion to captain of this precinct.

"You could have blocked the promotion," Killian commented finally, his voice quieter than he intended. "Why didn't you?"

"Don't think I wasn't tempted. You're a hell of a lot safer giving out parking tickets and chasing down stolen vehicles than out with…" Liam sighed and glanced across the table, his eyes serious. "I know how much you want this… but Weaver is…"

"What is he?"

"I don't know exactly, and that's what bothers me."

"He closes cases," Killian offered with a small shrug.

"And he goes through partners," Liam retorted, " _fast_."

"What happened to Williams was nasty luck."

"And Johnson?" Liam asked, eyebrows raised.

"That wasn't his fault-"

Liam sighed. He'd done his best to remain impartial when it came to Officer… _Detective_ Rogers but ever since the day Killian had been shot in that alley he was finding it more and more difficult not to simply put him on desk duty where he wouldn't get hurt again.

"That's what the IA report says," Liam replied carefully, glancing around to ensure their privacy. "But Weaver seems to attract such luck to his partners, whatever _IA_ says about him." Liam ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in the chair and eying Killian. "I don't like it, Killian. Weaver requested you personally, the same bloody _hour_ Belfrey started throwing her weight around near demanding your promotion. Normally such things take months but- I don't like it."

"Most people would go with _Congratulations,_ " Killian grumbled. He knew his voice sounded a bit too sulky for a conversation with his superior officer, off the clock or not, but he couldn't seem to help it.

"We both know you deserve this. That's not what this is about. It's Weaver I don't trust, not you." Liam leaned forward. "Just be careful."

"I'm always careful."

* * *

 _ **This is really just a world building chapter, in which I intend to drop canon-divergent Jones brothers "between the scenes" moments. And I'm very excited about that!**_


	2. Shots fired

**_Consider this a very late whumptober gift (to myself.)_**

 ** _Prompt 2: Bloody hands_**

* * *

Captain William Jewell turned up the scanner so he could hear it over the sounds of the raucous music blaring from the car next to him. The downside of an using an unmarked vehicle from the pool, people were not nearly so well behaved.

Technically he was off duty. But really is the captain ever truly off duty?

If he was being honest he kept the scanner on far more frequently then he should. But it appeased some of the tightness in his stomach, the feeling that he was missing something.

His commute was going to be hellish despite the lateness of the hour. A thick layer of ice on the roads and numerous car accidents had backed up everything for miles around and half his department had been booted back to traffic detail to deal with the resulting mess. They were spread far too thin as it was and he was just coming off a 14 hour shift himself trying to compensate for the lack of manpower tonight. Most of the communications he barely heard. Traffic related, primarily, abandoned cars and motorists in need of assistance. Cars blocking traffic and all the standard ways people inexplicably forget how to drive during the first ice of the year.

An anomaly caught his attention, standing out from the reports from traffic detail. Suspicious persons, suspect armed. The location of the call was only a few blocks from his current location and he was about to respond that he would detour to check it out when someone beat him to it. Officer Rogers, supposed to be off duty, like himself, but their commute took them along a similar route.

"-Rogers responding; I'm two blocks out, I'll check it out."

He liked the young officer. Rogers had been there, at his previous posting when he'd made captain and been transferred along with him to Seattle. He was the first person he knew in this city which probably explained his fondness. Jewell had a sudden inexplicable impulse to tell Rogers to be careful, but of course he knew better than to muddy the airwaves with such things. Still, Rogers was supposed to be coming off duty, like himself. He'd be alone.

On impulse he swerved into the exit lane. It was only a few blocks out for him as well, might as well ensure that everything was alright.

A few blocks out was quite a long detour, thanks to the mess on the roads but when dispatch called Rogers for an update and was greeted with a staticky silence he was suddenly glad of his impulse. His stomach knotted. An officer was never without his radio. The moment Jewell found him he was going to get a hell of a reprimand about radio protocol.

He was only a block away from the reported sight when the car in front of him spun out, wheels sliding sideways and leaving a long gash along two of the parked cars on the shoulder. William slammed on his brakes, barely avoiding becoming part of the accident himself.

"What the hell-" throwing the car into park he got out just in time to hear-

BANG! BANG! BANG!

William's stomach dropped and he grabbed his radio, calling in shots fired and sprinting passed the startled motorist gaping in horror at his uniform and the damage to the parked cars.

"Clear the area-" William called and the woman just continued to stare. "I've got your license plate number," he called, not even slowing down. "We'll deal with the property damage later. Get in your car and move. NOW!" His shout seemed to break her out of a daze and she jumped back into her car, wheels skidding on the ice before she managed to get traction and sped around a corner. William's eyes flicked back and forth rapidly, looking for the source of the shots as he moved down the block. He cleared one alley and then the next, the knots in his stomach tightening. Rogers should be here. Rogers should be returning fire, or shouting down the assailant, calling for backup... _something_. A glint of metal greeted him as he turned the next corner and he dropped, expecting the retort of a weapon but hearing instead-

"Seattle PD, drop your weapon-" just as he'd been about to yell the same.

 _Rogers._

"Damn it, Rogers, it's me!"

The weapon Rogers had been holding dropped to the ground thudding softly into the snow and William had been about to chastise Rogers about taking care with his firearm when Rogers began to sway.

 _Bloody hell._

Rogers crumpled, hitting the ground without much more noise than his firearm had made thanks to the rapidly thickening blanket of white in the alley. Jewell dove but Rogers hit the ground before he could reach him.

"Where are you hit?" he asked unnecessarily, sinking next to his fallen officer. He could already see the red blooming across the snow from a wound in his lower abdomen. He'd been through the first aid training. Hell, he'd _mandated_ the first aid training. Something about gloves was step one. Like Rogers had time for gloves. William put pressure on the hole with one palm, pressing hard.

Rogers let out a hiss of pain at the pressure as William reached for his radio.

"I need an ambulance at... hell, where am I? 9th, 9th and Madison. Officer down, need immediate assistance."

He heard the confirmation from dispatch distantly, his eyes roving back and forth between Rogers and the alley, unsure if his assailant had lingered.

"Cap'n" Rogers said breathlessly, "Three... headed towards Cherry-ah damn it all" William had increased the pressure on the wound and cut off Rogers' words.

"You think I want a damn report right now officer?" he growled.

Blood was seeping sluggishly through his fingers, and it didn't seem possible that his hands were making any difference. Not when his hands, his clothes, the snow was all turning bright red around them. He looked around, a panic settling in his stomach and making his fingers tremble. Or maybe that was the chill of blood cooling on his skin.

"i need an ETA on that ambulance!" He called into the radio. There was silence for a few very long moments and then:

 _"Ten minutes"_

"Ten-" he started in indignation. He was no more than three blocks from Harbor view medical center and Rogers was going to bleed to death right here before an ambulance could get to them in this storm.

"Rogers?" he called when the man's eyes grew heavy. "Stay awake."

"Aye cap'n" Rogers responded groggily, his eyes closing anyway. "Sorry cap'n"

William took Rogers' good hand and placed it over the wound pressing down hard through the fabric of his jacket. "Hold it. I'm going to get the car. Don't fall asleep. That's an order." He raced out to the street where his car was still sitting, door flung open in his haste. He jammed the keys into the ignition and pulled it up as close as he could to the head of the alley.

He raced back to the fallen officer who had disobeyed his order for the first time that Jewell could remember.

"No. No, no, no come on. Wake up, Rogers"

The officer's eyes fluttered open and William sighed in relief.

"Did you see her, Liam?"

Jewell furrowed his eyebrows. He'd never gone by Liam, not since he was child. Not since Killian- he shuddered. Had it been like this? When Killian died, had anyone even _tried_ to save him? Thoughts of the police report locked in his desk drawer back at the station distracted him for a moment before he was pulled back to the present by Rogers' hiss of pain.

He'd failed his little brother. Lost him in the system and found him too late to save him. But he could save Rogers. He had to.

"Liam?"

 _Shock_.

Rogers was clearly going into shock. He pulled out the first aid kit he'd grabbed from the car and wrapped a compression bandage tightly around the wound. It wasn't much better than the jacket but it was something

"Stay awake, little brother," he murmured, the endearment slipping out unnoticed, the evidence of his mind's detour into his childhood. Still, it seemed to calm Rogers anyway.

He heaved Rogers' arm over his shoulder and dragged the man to his feet, doing his best to ignore the little moans of pain and how Rogers sagged next to him as he helped him collapse into the passenger seat of his car. Racing around the car and jamming himself into the driver's seat, Jewel stepped on the gas, making his passenger slump against the door at the sudden acceleration.

"I'm going to get you to the hospital, Rogers, you just stay awake."

" 'm awake, L'm."

Jewell winced. Awake he may be, but not for long. Rogers was deathly pale and shivering uncontrollably. Jewell blasted the heat to try to compensate for the cold and for the blood loss but the shivers only worsened as he pulled out into traffic, sirens warning people to get the hell out of his way but still not nearly fast enough. The ice had backed up everything and lights and sirens didn't help when people had no where to go to get out of the way.

Grabbing his radio he called in his intent to dispatch and ordered them to call ahead so the hospital would be prepared.

Rogers slumped in his seat and Jewell looked over at him, reaching for his knee and shaking him.

"Hey Rogers, come on, stay with me." His ragged breaths had quieted William's thoughts drifted endlessly back to his file cabinet and his failure locked inside. Had he failed Rogers too? He shut off the heat in the car for a few moments so he could listen for the sound of quiet breaths. Finally catching the sound he turned the heat back on full blast. It was growing uncomfortably warm for him but Rogers' hand was still like ice. "Rogers," he called insistently, knowing it was useless. He'd lost too much blood. It was seeping past the bandage already, pooling in the passenger seat, coating his hands on the wheel, sticky and cold. His body was shutting down and a few shakes of his knee weren't enough to bring him back. _Was anything_?

Finally giving up on waking Rogers he turned his full attention back to the road. People were trying to get out of his way, but he cursed them anyway. For being out in this mess at all and interrupting his straight shot to the hospital.

Two blocks more.

He laid on the horn in addition to the siren when the owner of a salt covered new car tried to keep a little more distance from the parked vehicles and blocked Liam's way. It was all Liam could do to use the horn rather than simply push the vehicle out of the way with his own. He may have, if there had been a delay of longer than a few seconds. Just as he was considering the idea the car inched closer to the side and William shot passed.

One block more.

His wheels hit a pothole filled with ice and spun out for a moment before regaining traction and he just barely avoided sliding into a parked car more than once. He could see the entrance to the trauma center now, paramedics waiting in the cold with a gurney, stamping their feet and turning their backs against the wind.

He slammed on the breaks in front of the trauma center and someone was wrenching open his passenger door instantly. Rogers didn't make a sound as two paramedics inspected the blood soaked bandage, applying another on top before dragging the officer from the vehicle.

"Caliber?" someone was asking and he shook his head.

"I don't know, I wasn't there."

"Exit wound?" The paramedic continued tersely. William's stomach clenched. He hadn't checked. Damn it, how could he not have checked?

"I don't know?" he said guiltily. The paramedic didn't waste time on judgement, moving on quickly.

"How long ago was the shooting and when did he become unresponsive." They were taking Rogers inside and William took a step to follow, only to be stopped by the paramedic snapping him from his daze. "Please, stay with me sir. We need this medical history if we're going to help him."

Jewell nodded. He knew that. Of course he knew that. So why did he still feel like pushing past the paramedic and remaining glued to Rogers' side. He was not a damn civilian. He tore his eyes from Rogers disappearing gurney and glanced at his watch. "Seven minutes, approximately." He checked his watch again. Could that really be right? It had felt an eternity. "He passed our on the drive over maybe 2, 3 minutes ago?"

"Are you injured, sir?" the paramedic asked, looking him over and William glanced down at himself. He supposed it would be hard to tell. He was covered in blood from shoulders to knees and his hands were a deep rusty red.

"It's not my blood-" he said quietly.

"Follow me and we'll find you a place to get cleaned up."

"No, no I don't want to get cleaned up I need to-" He heard the desperateness in his own voice and stopped to take a breath. "I need to ensure my officer is okay."

"I can assure you, we're doing everything we can." William almost laughed. How many times had he uttered the same words. "Does he have any family we should call?"

"I'm..." he paused, heart clenching. "No. No, I don't suppose he does." It felt wrong, even though he knew it was true.

"And what is your relationship to the patient?"

"I'm his... I'm his captain."

"Thank you captain," the paramedic pushed open the door to a small room. "A nurse will be by shortly to help you get cleaned up and-"

"Where is he? Where did you take him?"

"Surgical. It will be some time, but we will let you know when there are developments."

William nodded dumbly. He should thank the man. He tried but his throat had closed up and he simply nodded again as the paramedic closed the door behind him. The door cut down on the raucous sounds of the hospital and the relative quiet was startling after so much noise. There was a hospital gown laid out on the bed as well as towels and wet wipes. He stared dumbly at them for a moment as though he'd forgotten how to use them. He had a change of clothes in his go bag in the car. He should have grabbed-

There was a knock on the door and it swung open to reveal a man with a hospital security badge and his go bag.

"I noticed you left it, sir" the man offered kindly, "thought you might need it."

"Thank you," he managed.

The guard smiled back. It wasn't a happy smile, and somehow William felt as though this man had been in his position more than once. Without any words he took some comfort in the moment of camaraderie before the door was closed again.

There was a small mirror on one wall and he glanced in it. He was a sight. the crusty brown of dried blood was everywhere. He'd even managed to smear it on his face at some point. How could Rogers possibly survive when so much of his blood was right here, in the clothes Jewell peeled off and let fall into a heap on the floor.

He slipped into his change of clothes moments before there was another knock on the door.

A nurse came in with more towels and asked if he needed any help.

He meant to say no and tried to smile at her but apparently the words didn't come out because she took the pack of wet wipes from him with gloved hands and began to help him clean the smears of blood from his face and neck.

He let her work, eyes staring unfocussed at a spot on the wall.

"There's a sink in the corner-" she offered, drawing his attention back to her.

He just stared at her.

"For your hands."

 _Oh._

She turned on the water and he recognized something in her mannerisms, something from their training on dealing with people in shock. Which was absurd. He wasn't in shock. He was not a civilian. He was a police captain, he could handle a little blood on his clothes.

She still had to lead him to the sink before it occurred to him to use the running water to wash the stains from his hands.

"Do you know where he is?"

"Still in surgical, captain. They'll let you know when something changes. Can I get you something warm? Coffee?"

She _did_ think he was in shock. He tried to correct her but it just came out as "thank you."

He was already writing the incident report in his head when she returned with a styrofoam cup and he took in gratefully.

Officer Rogers responded to a report of suspicious persons. Advised he was in the area and would check it out. Captain Jewell, also in route, followed to provide backup and arrived at the scene approximately ten minutes after the report. Three shots fired, heard but not seen. Captain Jewell cleared the area of civilians and followed the sound of the shots. Officer Rogers was discovered near the intersection of 9th and Madison. _CPR was attempted but the adolescent was unresponsive to first aid._

Captain Jewell shook his head, trying to banish the words of another report from his mind.

Officer Rogers was wounded, advised that suspects had fled on foot in the direction of Cherry Ave. First aid was applied and EMS requested. Captain Jewell was advised that EMS was 10 minutes out due to weather conditions and proceeded to transport Officer Rogers to the nearest medical center at Harbor View. _John Doe declared DOA at 8:15 PM._

William shook his head again, as though he could physically force his brother's report from his mind. _Damn it_. He took a long gulp of the coffee. It was terrible but strong.

Leaving his bloody clothes and go bag in the corner he stalked out of the room. He needed the noise of the waiting room. Needed to get out of his head.

It was going to be a long night.


End file.
